Page 32 of SINS & Lies

“No, you don’t.”

What’s he going on about? Of course, I do. “I barely scraped together twenty grand.”

“More like ten,” he corrects me flatly, raising that impeccable eyebrow of his.

Emotions overwhelm me, and I hastily blink back a tear, cutting him off. “The point is, you were the only one who gave a damn whether I lived or died. And even if this whole mess ended up far, far worse, the fact that you did that means something. And you mean something. To me.”

We linger in silence for a beat, his golden eyes locked on mine. Before it gets awkward, I speak up. “Promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“You’re not made of stone, Enzo,” I murmur, smoothing my fingers along the bruises on his cheeks and jawline, then rising to my tiptoes to press a kiss there. “Take care of yourself.” Then, I add, “Lang may yer lum reek.”

He draws back slightly. “What did you say?”

“Just something my dad used to say to avoid a lengthy goodbye. Technically, I think it means, Long may your chimney smoke.”

“I know what it means,” Enzo replies, and the small crack in my heart widens even more. A man who knows Scottish. My dad would’ve loved him.

His gaze remains averted. Annoyed, he mutters, “I’m trying to say goodbye here, Bella...and you’re giving me the equivalent of Live long and prosper?”

The quote from Star Trek makes me laugh, though I fight back more tears. Da loved that, too. “I guess so.”

When his gaze meets mine again, he simply notes, “You’re crying.” Mr. Obvious’s words come out devoid of empathy and more like a statement of fact than anything else. As if there’s no room in his world for emotions or outbursts.

Or me.

Still, it stings. I know Enzo D’Angelo is a rich, powerful mob boss, but it’s as if I never mattered at all, and the connection we had was all in my head.

God, was it?

But...Wait a minute. If it was all in my head, then what’s he doing here, breathing his fiery, cigar-scented Enzo hotness all over me like a dragon in heat?

I shake it off.

Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.

Taking a brave step back, I inhale deeply, steel my emotions, and extend my hand. “I’ll miss you, Enzo Ares D’Angelo.”

He slips his firm grip through mine. “Goodbye, Kennedy Luciano.”

The name Luciano grates on me the way it always does, and I want to correct him and tell him I prefer to go by Mullvain, but why bother? I’m never going to see him again.

For a long, tenuous beat, we stare. Then, just as I think he’s about to turn and walk away forever, without warning, he kisses me.

And not some last call, goodbye forever, sweet farewell kiss. Nooo.

We kiss like every nuke on the planet has just been launched. In a rush, his lips crash against mine. And Enzo takes everything—everything—kissing me, breathing me in, consuming me so fully I see stars.

We melt into each other, tongues colliding, his arms so tight around me, there’s no escape. Not that I would want to.

Gasping for air, we break apart only to crash together once more, the intensity of our connection igniting like wildfire between us.

The earth tilts as I’m lifted in the air, my body sprawled on a desk that’s so rickety, I’m pretty sure it’ll shatter if he tries to fuck me on it.

“We can’t,” I huff, panting and coming back to reality. “We’re in a classroom,” I pant. “With a bunch of kids right outside that door.”

And you’re leaving.

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